POV: Riley
The great hall shimmered under the glow of a thousand candles, their golden flames reflected in polished marble floors and towering stained-glass windows. Tapestries depicting centuries of triumphs, rulers, and battles draped the walls, watching like silent guardians over the ceremony about to unfold.
At the center of the hall, beneath an archway woven with silver vines and moon-kissed blossoms, two thrones waited—crafted from ancient oak and inlaid with gemstones that pulsed faintly with ancestral magic.
Riley stood beside Alex, their robes flowing like liquid silk in hues of royal purple and silver. The weight of the moment pressed against her chest, but with it came a sense of breathtaking awe. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a prophecy half-understood. This was happening
